


Café Au Lait

by Salmon_Pink



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2012-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 13:06:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_Pink/pseuds/Salmon_Pink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he's not allowed to touch Tim in any way that people can <i>see</i>, well, Kon will just have to improvise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Café Au Lait

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the beginning of Batman, Inc. Written for the [Tim/Kon Meme](http://dcu-memes.livejournal.com/2410.html), [prompt](http://dcu-memes.livejournal.com/2410.html?thread=618#t618) "Kon likes feeling Tim up with his TTK. Especially when they're in public and Tim can't do anything but grit his teeth and bear it".

Kon watches as Tim chats amicably with the barista at the counter. He’s doing a good job of looking calm and composed, but he’s _Tim_ , so he always does a good job of looking calm and composed.

Which just won’t do, and Kon shifts a little in his seat and narrows his eyes in concentration.

Tim pauses mid-word, sucks in a quick, sharp breath before covering it in a fake cough that allows him to discreetly fidget on the spot. Smooth bastard. 

But Kon’s not going to lose, so he just makes the touch a little _firmer_. TTK rubbing small circles along the very top of Tim’s inner thighs, and he adds an extra wisp of sensation across Tim’s stomach for good measure. Shapes it into something like fingernails that rake through the thin line of dark hair that runs down from under Tim’s navel.

Tim’s breathing speeds up, but only a little, which means he’s probably employing some weird meditation ritual or something. 

Kon smirks to himself. Challenge accepted.

He’s been well-behaved all day, at least by his standards. The TTK touches have been soft, unassuming, brushing the back of Tim’s hand or settling against the small of his back as they walk. The kind of touches he wants to be able to do with his _hands_ , not with his freaky superpowers, but they’re in Gotham and there’s been at least two paparazzi on Tim’s trail at all times since he became Wayne Enterprises’ poster boy.

They’ve already talked about what would happen if the press found out about their relationship. 

Clark’s established in his own life well enough that it doesn’t matter so much if he’s seen associating with Bruce Wayne. It makes sense, as well, for a reporter to show interest in somebody who practically _lives_ in the news. 

But if Kon’s picture starts showing up in the papers and online as Tim Drake-Wayne’s boyfriend, it might be a little too easy for somebody to realise that there’s a reason that Tim’s dating a no-name hick from Kansas who happens to look exactly like Superboy wearing glasses. Might be even _easier_ for them to make the connection, now Tim and the rest of the Wayne family are officially associated with Batman, Incorporated.

Tim’s also pointed out that when Clark’s being Clark instead of Superman, everything about him changes, from his voice to his posture to his body language, whereas Kon apparently still physically acts just like Superboy, whether he’s wearing the glasses or not.

Personally, Kon prefers blaming it on Batman, Incorporated.

And it’s not like he’s _punishing_ Tim for being a gossip-page staple or anything, because he’s not petty and he knows it isn’t Tim’s fault. 

But if they can’t be coupley in public? Well, he’s going to have his own fun with that.

And that fun involves nudging the TTK higher up Tim’s thighs, shaping it into something blunt and curved, like a knuckle, and pushing it up against the skin behind Tim’s balls. _Hard_.

Tim splutters a little, chokes on his words, and the barista tilts her head curiously at him. Tim smiles sheepishly and tries to at least finish his sentence. Which is just wishful thinking, really, because it’s only going to encourage Kon to drag the other TTK touch down his stomach until it reaches Tim’s rapidly hardening cock, shifting into the shape of a ring that wraps around the base and begins to _squeeze_.

Oh yeah, Tim’s totally blushing now. The barista ducks her head slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and smiling. She thinks Tim’s trying to awkwardly flirt with her, which is cute, and she _is_ pretty hot, but Kon has eyes for only one person at that counter and he knows Tim only has eyes for him.

And embarrassing Tim in front of the hot barista might not seem like the _normal_ way to show he cares. But nothing in their life together has ever been exactly normal, so why start now?

He makes the ring ripple a little against Tim’s cock, fluttery little touch, and Tim manages to make the way he places his hand on the counter seem almost casual. But Kon’s super-vision means that even across the café, he can see that Tim’s grip is white-knuckled.

There’s a hint of perspiration forming at Tim’s hairline.

Kon keeps up the rippling motion, mentally picturing it as butterfly wings fluttering, soft and sweet and _teasing_. 

His super-hearing picks up the sound of Tim’s teeth grinding together.

He rubs the knuckle-shaped TTK up against the back of Tim’s sac, urges it to thicken into something closer to the shape of his thumb. 

His x-ray vision means he can see Tim’s toes curling in his sneakers.

Kon smiles darkly to himself and pushes the TTK thumb back and up against Tim’s hole.

The muscles of Tim’s legs tense up hard, but not quite quick enough to catch him entirely when his knees try to give out, so he ends up awkwardly hip-checking the counter.

Yep, that definitely counts as a victory. 

A second barista gives Tim a concerned, somewhat suspicious look as she hands him their drinks. Tim gives her a jerky nod and even manages to thank her, although it comes out through gritted teeth.

Kon lets the TTK fall away so Tim can cross the café without dropping their drinks.

“Hi, honey. I missed you,” Kon chirps when Tim all but slams down the cups. He lets his smirk be just as dark and wet and _filthy_ as he wants. “Could you tell?”

Tim glares down at him, the most perfect flush still painting his face. “You son of a -”

“You got them to go?” Kon interrupts, nodding at the take-away cups in their cardboard holders. “I thought we were hanging out here?”

“We’re leaving,” Tim hisses, grabbing a handful of packets of sugar from the bowl on the table.

Kon settles back in the booth a little, spreading his arms across the back and generally looking as arrogant and smug as possible. “Aww, but I like it here. I think we should stay.”

Tim takes a deep breath and then he’s leaning forward, reaching over Kon’s lap for his jacket to cover the way he’s pushing into Kon’s personal space, the scent of his arousal filling Kon’s senses, lips so close that Kon can feel his breath on his cheek. “No, we’re leaving. _Now_.” He hovers there for a moment, gaze flickering pointedly from Kon’s eyes to his lips and back again, before he slowly stands back up.

To anyone else, Tim might just look pissed off, but Kon knows differently. Because, yeah, okay, Tim _is_ pissed off, but it’s the _good_ kind of pissed off, the kind that means that Kon’s in for a particularly amazing, particularly satisfying afternoon, just as soon as they reach a bedroom or the doorway of Tim’s apartment or anywhere else relatively private.

“If you insist,” he grins, grabbing his coffee and following Tim out the door.


End file.
